Рождественская история

           Aworthyplace.

           TheSpiritstoodamongthegraves,andpointeddowntoOne.Headvancedtowardsittrembling.ThePhantomwasexactlyasithadbeen,buthedreadedthathesawnewmeaninginitssolemnshape.

           ‘BeforeIdrawnearertothatstonetowhichyoupoint,’saidScrooge,‘answermeonequestion.ArethesetheshadowsofthethingsthatWillbe,oraretheyshadowsofthingsthatMaybe,only?’

           StilltheGhostpointeddownwardtothegravebywhichitstood.

           ‘Men’scourseswillforeshadowcertainends,towhich,ifperseveredin,theymustlead,’saidScrooge.‘Butifthecoursesbedepartedfrom,theendswillchange.Sayitisthuswithwhatyoushowme!’

           TheSpiritwasimmovableasever.

           Scroogecrepttowardsit,tremblingashewent;andfollowingthefinger,readuponthestoneoftheneglectedgravehisownname,EbenezerScrooge.

           ‘AmIthatmanwholayuponthebed?’hecried,uponhisknees.

           Thefingerpointedfromthegravetohim,andbackagain.

           ‘No,Spirit.Ohno,no!’

           Thefingerstillwasthere.

           ‘Spirit!’hecried,tightclutchingatitsrobe,‘hearme.IamnotthemanIwas!IwillnotbethemanImusthavebeenbutforthisintercourse!Whyshowmethis,ifIampastallhope?’

           Forthefirsttimethehandappearedtoshake.

           ‘GoodSpirit!’hepursued,asdownuponthegroundhefellbeforeit:‘Yournatureintercedesforme,andpitiesme.AssuremethatIyetmaychangetheseshadowsyouhaveshownme,byanalteredlife!’

           Thekindhandtrembled